Chapter 12

Jon suddenly recognized the man. It was his eyes – through the waterfall of blood on his face that day, something about his eyes had evidently remained in Jon’s mind. There was no denying it – it was him. He was the one who had caused all this pain, he had harmed the only woman Jon had ever had feelings for. An image of Claudette lying in the clearing, so full of blood, flashed before his eyes, and he clenched his fists. The man was laughing with the others – for a moment he wondered whether they knew what he had done, but he didn’t think it possible.

Wouldn’t they have reported it?

In a sense, it seemed Timothy was a bit of an outsider. Jon couldn’t put his finger on it, but it seemed Timothy was always at the edge of the group, as though he was never the centre of attention. He seemed to carry their drinks often, and nobody paid too much attention to him.

Finally, Timothy left the group. He greeted the other men, but they scarcely seemed to notice.

What had made Claudette want to spend time with this man?

He couldn’t understand what she had seen in this man. He seemed so average, if not below average. The thought came to Jon that she would have allowed him into her life as her lover despite his social standing if she had allowed this man in. But he pushed the thought out of his mind – he couldn’t dwell on it now. Claudette was married, that was it. He couldn’t do anything about it.

Jon followed Timothy all the way to his room. Music was blaring loudly all around the hotel – it was, after all, Friday night. His room was at the far side of the hotel, seemingly close to the entrance Jon intended to use. Jon assumed that the rooms around Timothy’s were reserved for the other soldiers as no sound could be heard from them.

That’s good. Nobody would be able to hear them.

Timothy had had a couple of drinks, and he fumbled with his keys as he attempted to open the door. He dropped them, and then picked them up again. When he was inside, he attempted to kick the door closed, but Jon’s foot caught the door before it slammed shut. Timothy turned around as Jon slid into the room quietly.

Timothy looked at Jon with wide eyes – it seemed as though there was some sense of recognition, but it was clear that Timothy was unable to place Jon in his mind.

Jon’s heart was beating violently, and he felt the sweat on his temples. He grabbed the pistol from inside his coat and pointed it at Timothy.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“You’re coming with me. Put your hands above your head,” Jon said moving closer to Timothy.

Timothy complied, but Jon noticed him looking around the room for some means of escape.

“You’re not getting away this time Timothy.”

“How do you know who I am?” Timothy asked, his eyes flickering toward the drawer at the kitchen counter.

Timothy was still in uniform, but it didn’t seem as though he had any weapons on him – he would have used them by now. Jon looked at him closely now – he had gone on to live his life after he had assaulted a woman, worse than that, he had believed that he had murdered her. How could he live with himself? Jon felt it was unnecessary to ask. What could the man possibly say to defend his actions?

Jon pulled some rope from inside his jacket and moved closer to Timothy. He stood behind Timothy now, his pistol still pointed directly at him.

“Lower your hands to your back,” Jon said.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked.

“I’m taking you to Westville,” Jon said, tying Timothy’s hands behind his back, but before he could finish tying the knot, Timothy turned around in a swift movement and attempted to grab the pistol which Jon had placed back into his coat in order to tie Timothy’s hands. He reached for the pistol and removed it from the coat, but before he could get a proper hold on it, Jon grabbed his fist with one hand, and punched him in the face with the other. Timothy stumbled backwards, but then he came forward and lunged for the pistol which had now fallen on the ground. Jon kicked the pistol away and kneed Timothy in the stomach as he dove forward. Timothy let out a moan of pain, but swiftly rolled over towards the gun. Jon grabbed him by the leg and pulled him back. As Jon attempted to pick Timothy back up, he drew an arm back and punched Jon on his nose. Jon felt immense pain, but he felt even worse pain in his chest when another blow hit him. Jon stumbled back as Timothy came closer again, intending to land another blow. For a moment, Jon saw the look in Timothy’s eyes – a look which he realized must have been what Claudette saw as she thought she was going to die. With this vision, Jon gained his strength – he would kill this man for what he had done to his beloved Detty.

He grabbed Timothy’s arm as it came at him – he realized quickly that he was stronger than Timothy. He twisted Timothy’s arm behind his back, and then pushed his head against the counter with the other. He smashed it hard, and again, and again, until he saw the splashes of blood running down his face. As Timothy attempted to gain his strength, Jon grabbed the pistol from the floor and pointed it at him again.

“This is your last chance. You’re coming with me.”

“How do you even know it was me? Nobody will ever believe you. The Batten woman is dead, she won’t be able to confirm my identity. The driver would never testify against a soldier. He’ll know his days will be numbered – a few threats will see to that. So what’s the point of taking me back? I’ll tell everyone you assaulted me. You’ll be the one imprisoned!”

Jon laughed, “You truly think you killed her? She survived! You’ll be imprisoned for the rest of your life! She remembers everything. She’ll recognize you, and believe me, she’ll be very happy to see you sit in a prison. You won’t be able to threaten her.”

Timothy’s bloodied eyes were wide, his chest heaving as he contemplated his options. It was clear that he had truly believed Claudette to be dead.

Then, in one swift movement, Timothy dove to the counter, opened it, and grabbed another gun. As soon as Jon saw him grab it, he fired one shot straight at Timothy. As he fell to the ground, wounded right in the chest, he fired a shot at Jon, but it hit the roof. He lay on the floor in a pool of blood. Jon stood over him, watching the life drain from his body, but he didn’t have much time. He gathered the rope and ran quickly out the door, to the staircase to the exit. He was certain that nobody had heard the shots and there was no commotion. The music was still loud as Jon placed the pistol in his coat and climbed into the carriage. He instructed the well-paid driver to make haste in the direction of Westville.

They drove through the night, and Jon had ensured to change his clothing from the suitcase he had made sure to place in the carriage before he went into the hotel. They seemed to travel very far, but it felt like a few minutes. Jon still felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He stopped the driver early in the morning when they had reached another train station. He paid the man again, and then left on a train. As he sat again, on the way to Westville, he knew what he had to do – he had to speak to Lord Batten.

Upon his return he rode directly to the Batten law practice. He asked an employee to deliver a note to Lord Batten as soon as possible. The note simply read: Lord Batten, I kindly request your presence at my cottage this evening at 5 o’ clock.

Sincerely, Jon He knew it would strike Lord Batten as odd, and hopefully that would make him realize that it was imperative for him to attend.

Jon rode home and entered the familiar cottage. Surprisingly, the clothes in his suitcase did not contain much blood, but he decided to burn then in the fireplace anyway.

Finally there was a knock at the door – it was Lord Batten and Jon ushered him inside.

“Jon, is everything alright? Your note seemed quite odd.”

“I required your presence entirely alone, my Lord. There is an urgent matter I have to discuss with you.”